is this the real life? is this just fantasy?
by Jess the Enthusiast
Summary: Florence Bursnell is wearing his glasses because she "wants to see how blind he is." And considering that he's been incapacitated on the couch ever since she began parading around with them on, the answer is very much so. James/Lily - Sixth Year


**A/N: Late Jily Secret Santa present for Laura. I don't own Harry Potter or Bohemian Rhapsody**

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Florence Bursnell is wearing his glasses because she "wants to see how blind he is." And considering that he's been incapacitated on the couch ever since she began parading around with them on, the answer is _very much so_. Which leaves James a little dumbfounded. Because he's always had trouble with his eyesight, he knows that, but now that he's been without his glasses for so long, he's suddenly _very_ aware of how terrible it is. But he's also a little bit drunk. So that explains the spinning. And _she's_ a little bit drunk too. So that explains the flirting. And to make things especially interesting, he's also heard that she's on the outs with her boyfriend. _Again_. And he _really_ isn't interested in getting in the middle of that.

But most importantly, he's frustrated. He hadn't exactly _wanted_ to give her his glasses, but, as it turns out, a drunk Florence is also a very persistent Florence, and could you blame a bloke for wanting to shut her up?

But now's the hard part. Because she's run off somewhere and he's all alone and essentially immobilized at Gryffindor's very first Ugly Christmas Sweater Party. Which makes him _really_ _cross_ because everyone is having an ace time from what he can tell and he's been looking forward to this party for absolute _ages_. And because of Florence, he's pretty much stuck where he is, waiting until she decides to finally waltz back since he hasn't a clue where Sirius or his mirror is. So being rescued is pretty much out of the question.

And to add insult to injury, his sweater isn't even _ugly._ But that, at least, is all Angus' fault because the stupid cat went and tore his other one to shreds, thus calling for improvisation with a reindeer jumper. That alone is bad enough, but to make matters _even worse_, according to Florence, the antlers he's wearing, combined with the sweater and the red nose Remus painted on him, make him actually look rather "cute." Cute! At an _Ugly_ _Christmas Sweater Party_! Can you believe that?!

Needless to say, James is not a happy bloke.

Angus – or at least he assumes? he can't exactly tell – jumps suddenly onto his lap and despite his annoyance, he wraps his arms around the fat gray blob and strokes its fur. His efforts at a begrudging truce are met with a hiss and bite and then he knows for _certain_ that it's Angus. But James refuses to allow him to leave his lap because he doesn't know where Florence or Sirius is (or Remus and Peter, for that matter) and he's lonely.

But then someone sits next to him and he can't tell who it is because everything is so goddamn blurry and the dim lighting of the common room is just making it even worse. For a wild moment he thinks that it must be Florence (because the human blob to his left looks kind of like it could be a small girl), but then he notices what must be dark red hair. And he begins to sweat. Like he always does whenever _she's_ around.

If Lily takes any notice of this, she doesn't show it, as she instead shifts a little closer to him so she can reach forward and pet Angus. Her close proximity and a smell that reminds him of his Amortentia make him a tad bit flustered and he starts to stutter to her that she might want to be careful because he's a bit of a nasty cat, but Angus lets out a purr and James is too stunned to continue.

"What a good kitty," Lily coos softly when Angus stretches out on his back to let her stroke his belly. James can't believe that this girl has both him _and_ his cat wrapped around her finger.

Because, honestly,_ no one _should have that much power.

She looks up at him and she's close enough now that he can make out some of her features and gosh she looks pretty. "He's really sweet," she tells him and to his delight, she's smiling.

"He's quite the menace, actually," James insists, still somewhat astounded by Angus' submission. (Did she break Angus?) "And the bugger doesn't like anyone other than Sirius."

She laughs and starts to scratch behind Angus' ears. "Not even you?"

He shakes his head. "Not particularly. I think he tolerates me more than anything." As if to prove his point, Angus shoots him a glare. "But you're getting on pretty well so far so maybe this year _you_ can be the one who wrestles him home for Christmas. I'll even tie him all nice in a bow for you."

She laughs and lets out a wistful sigh. "I'd take you up on that, Potter, but Mum's allergic." And there's a pause and he wants to fidget and burst into song all at once because she's here and she wants to keep his cat and maybe this night isn't so terrible after all. But he manages to contain the urge. But only just barely.

"Can I hold him?" she asks brightly.

James shrugs, hopefully appearing somewhat nonchalant. "Sure. I mean, if he lets you."

The transaction involves a lot of accidental touching and James finds himself suddenly feeling very light and tingly all over. And he's smiling. Really ridiculously. And he should probably stop doing that. But he isn't exactly sure if he _can_ – especially since _Lily_ _Evans_ elected to sit next to him out of everyone at this stupid party and it doesn't seem as if she's planning on leaving anytime soon. And that makes him very, very happy.

Angus is eventually settled in her arms without even a hint of a struggle and James can't believe that he's so jealous of his dumb cat.

But then he hears the slightest hint of a snort and he shoots Lily a questioning look – or at least towards her general direction, as he can't exactly make eye contact.

"Nice antlers."

He groans, eyeing his blob of a fat cat sourly for good measure. "Don't even start, Evans," he warns but it's useless because she's laughing in earnest anyway and even he can't help but let out a few chuckles of his own.

"What, didn't get the memo? This is an _Ugly_ Christmas Sweater Party, although you may just get points for ridiculousness."

"You know, I excel at a lot of things, but being ugly simply isn't one of them," he tells her, shaking his head with a dramatic sigh. But his lips split into a grin too large for his face and it elicits a snort out of her.

"Well, _Sirius_ nearly managed it."

"_Nearly_ being the operative word." Out of the corner of his eye, he notices that his cat is like putty in her hands and he feels kind of the same. Minus the hands, of course. He isn't _that_ lucky.

"So are those _your_ glasses that Florence's got on?"

"Huh?" The question is so sudden and out of nowhere, and she says it so casually without even looking up from Angus, that it catches him completely off guard. "Oh. Oh, yeah. It was a poor judgment call. Would not recommend."

James can't help but notice that she's looked up and appraising him very carefully now and he thinks he knows why. He knows how the situation must look: Florence, single for the night, wearing _his_ glasses. Especially since they'd been having a conversation – albeit one-sided – for a good portion of the evening since she'd somehow whisked him away from an Exploding Snap game. But that _hadn't_ really been with his permission. Not that Lily knows that. So he knows how this must look to her. And it would be real fucking ace if she were looking at him like that out of jealousy. Because they've been dancing around each other for _ages_ and they both need _something_ to break the tension.

"How long has she had them?"

"Dunno. Could have been five minutes ago – _maybe_ even ten. Can't exactly tell like this." James has to close his eyes for a moment because his unfocused surroundings are giving him a headache, but once he opens them he turns to Lily and gives her a bright smile. "So if you were ever curious about how to incapacitate me, this is it. Take my glasses and I'm useless."

"There's something for the books."

James suddenly hears Sirius' bark of laughter through the chatter of the room and for a moment wonders what his best friend is up to. But then he remembers himself, where he is, and whom he is with so he pushes his attention back onto Lily.

But he doesn't know what else to say so they're both silent while Angus continues to purr. "I think maybe she wanted you to go after her," she finally murmurs, her fingers drawing swirly patterns into Angus' fur.

James' hand immediately jumps to his hair. "Florence?" He'd suspected just as much but hearing it said out loud makes it different, makes it real. And talking about it with Lily of all people makes him feel kind of antsy.

"Looks to me like she wanted you to _chase_ her."

He imagines that she's rolling her eyes – as she so often does – and he doesn't know what she's playing at, coming over here and insinuating that he should have gone after Florence. Maybe he's been imagining the tension this whole time? But she has to know that he still fancies _her_. Or maybe she has and this her way of telling him to move on.

"I don't 'chase' people, Lily," he says quietly, "You of all people know I've got more pride than that." The words hang heavy in the air because they both know what he's talking about despite how they've purposefully avoided the issue all term. And he immediately senses that she's tensed beside him and he can't believe that he just said that. "Er, but it's rubbish idea anyway since I can't see anything," he adds quickly, hoping to extinguish the grim mood he just created. "Wouldn't be able to find her, never mind navigate through the room."

Thankfully Lily laughs, but it's small and a little hesitant. "Well, she _is_ drunk. Couldn't have possibly thought it through." She laughs again and this time it's more genuine. And she shakes her head _hopefully_ with a smile, bumping her shoulder against his; James reciprocates and a chill goes down his spine. He feels electrified. "So…you're not going to go?"

James pulls at his hair at the nape of his neck and he stares at her really intently despite not being able to see much of her at all. "You know, Evans, I can't help but notice that you're _awfully_ interested in my affairs with Florence Bursnell." And then he's smirking at her with raised eyebrows and he thinks that she might be blushing but it's hard to tell. It makes him feel all warm inside regardless. "But no. I'm not in the mood to chat her up and I doubt she'd ever hand them over easily anyway – not exactly worth all that effort."

She leans back into the sofa, humming in thought. From what he can tell, her blurred lips have shaped themselves into a semblance of a smirk. "Oh so _that_ would be your strategy of choice? Chatting her up?"

"You say that like you're surprised."

"Dunno. Guess I figured you'd go with something a little more intricate and clever than that."

James feels a small amount of pressure on his arm and oh yes that is most definitely her hand touching him. He doesn't remember them gravitating towards each other but it's happening and they're both letting it. Funny how they're almost not even talking about Florence anymore.

"If chatting someone up isn't intricate and clever then you simply aren't doing it right." His voice his husky and when she speaks it comes out as a low whisper.

"Is that so?"

He nods slowly with certainty. "Most definitely. Need a demonstration?"

"Been waiting all night, to be honest." She's leaned in even closer. He can see the vibrancy of her green eyes more clearly. "You're not particularly on your game tonight, Potter."

He tries to keep his voice level as he protests, "Things happen to a person when their whole equilibrium's off."

"Is that the excuse we're going with?"

The air feels really thick, as if they're both waiting for the same thing. But before he can even consider whether or not he should just fuck it all and kiss her, he feels a clap on his shoulder and suddenly Sirius' face is inches from his own.

And he's laying on his side. On the couch. Alone. And with drool on his face. The room is quiet. Everything is still blurry.

"Wakey-wakey. Party's over. And I've got something for you, Prongs."

"Wh-what? What happened?" he asks and his voice sounds hoarse – not at all the husky sex-whisper he'd been using with Lily. But then glasses are shoved onto his face and the world is finally focused and clear.

Sirius helps him into a sitting position; he feels heavy and his head is pounding, but at least he can see. "Well, dunno how much you remember, but Florence Bursnell kidnapped, handicapped, and then abandoned you in less than an hour – would've rescued you but Wizard's Chess, mate, I was winning. But Evans sat with you for a bit. Probably shouldn't have had so many shots, though, because you were _real_ out of it, saying all kinds of rubbish – even told her that she could keep your cat. At least that's what I heard from MacDonald. Anyway, you kind of passed out on her – Evans, that is, not MacDonald – so she laid you on your side so you wouldn't choke in case you vomited or something like that. Then she took Angus. Drew a penis on your face, too."

This is almost too much for James to process.

"…But she can't have a cat, her mum's allergic."

Sirius makes a desperate attempt not to burst into laughter; James can tell because his face is twitching. "Prongs, mate, Evans' _got_ a cat. Likes to sit in front of the fire with Angus, remember?"

"Oh. Yeah…I guess." If James thinks about it – _really_ thinks about – he can remember a calico cat called Felix – Lily's had him since third year, and he gets on well with Angus.

But now he can't help but wonder if this means that their _entire_ conversation was a dream, which makes him kind of sad because he was having a real ace time with dream Lily. And he thinks that dream Lily was enjoying herself with dream James, too. But that's strictly speculation. Real Lily, on the other hand, had to endure drunken ramblings, which most likely provided a good laugh, but he doesn't even _want_ to know all the rubbish he could have possibly said. But he'll hear about it at breakfast – he can count on real Lily for that.

In the meantime, Sirius helps him to his feet, leading his pathetic arse to the staircase. He's telling James about how he had to summon his glasses off Bursnell's face because the apparently she just wouldn't give them up – great story from what he can tell, but he's barely listening. It's stupid, James knows that, but he's really disappointed that everything he'd thought transpired between him and Lily didn't. Maybe he can work something else out, and he'll make sure that he's wide-awake and sober for it.

Once they get to the top of the stairs, he suddenly remembers something that Sirius had mentioned earlier. "Could you imagine, though, if she really _did_ draw a penis on my face?"

"Wasn't joking about the penis."

"Oh."


End file.
